


I'll Search If You Don't See It

by nitpickyabouttrains



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: And also my first fic about a girl, And angst, F/M, I guess I just really like tension, I just really like writing dreams, I really like angst, It turns out that everything I write comes out sort of gloomy, LBD Ficathon, Sorry. Not even a little sorry., This is my first solo fic, lbdficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitpickyabouttrains/pseuds/nitpickyabouttrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William is sick. Lizzie is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Search If You Don't See It

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 32, with some liberties taken. 
> 
> Thank you to my shared brain [angelheadedhipster](http://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheadedhipster/pseuds/angelheadedhipster) for the grammar lessons.

Looking down at her phone for the third time in as many minutes, Lizzie willed it to ring. It was still blank, no new texts or calls. Which meant it had now been nearly seventeen hours since she had last heard from William. It didn’t sound like that long, less than a day, Lizzie tried to convinced herself. There was no reason to be concerned.  

 

But Lizzie knew William better than that. And in the six months since her birthday, since they had started dating, this was not normal. In fact, this was the longest they had gone without communicating. Given how their relationship had started, with so much misunderstanding and assumption, they had agreed from the start to always be open with each other. Usually that meant texts, phone calls and emails all day when they could not be together.

 

Something of a romantic, William had a tendency to text her when he woke up, if they were not waking up together. He emailed from the office during the day and called during his lunch. Sometimes Lizzie initiated the calls or texts, but he was always there, always responding.

 

Lizzie recalled one time, right after they had started seeing each other, when he had just gotten back to San Francisco. He and Gigi had gone to see a movie and he had texted her before it started, to let her know why he would not be responding for a few hours. Things had certainly relaxed since then. But they still texted good night and good morning and all the small details of their day.

 

But since around eight the night before, when he had texted to say he was going to be heading home from the office, there had been radio silence.

 

They had not fought, so Lizzie was not worried about that. Which did not leave many options for why his actions had changed so much in just a few hours. Something, she suspected might be wrong. He could be hurt. Or, she thought, he could have throw himself into work. Either way, Lizzie needed to know.

 

Lizzie knew that until she knew what was going on, made sure that he was fine, she would not be able to be productive. Sitting at her desk was doing no good at all. Her mind was not on her work at all, not when she had no idea if something was wrong with William. So Lizzie made up her mind. She packed up her bag, throwing in the proposals she was supposed to be reviewing, and stood up from her desk.

 

On her way out to her car, Lizzie tried his phone again. Like it had been all morning, the phone rang and rang, for what felt like forever, before finally going to voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message; she had already left four, it would do no good.

 

Instead she called his office, the front desk, to see if he had come in that morning and perhaps just gotten tied up in meetings and forgotten to let her know. “Pemberley Digital, this is Fanny.”

 

“Hey, Fanny,” Lizzie greeted, keeping her voice as upbeat as possible. She knew Fanny well, from all the times Lizzie came to the Pemberley offices. Fanny knew everything that happened in that building. “This is Lizzie. Have you seen William today? Has he come in?”

 

“I have not seen him,” Fanny said, “I assume he is working from one of the other offices or from home.”

 

That was all Lizzie needed to hear, “Thanks.”

 

If William was not at work, then he would most likely be at home. Which was where Lizzie was going to look for him. And, if nothing was wrong, yell at him.

 

+++

 

Lizzie fished the spare key out of potted plant by the door to William’s apartment and let herself in. The lights were all out, but Lizzie could see William’s bag by the door. She flipped on the light.

 

A groan, a pathetic sort of murmur, came from the couch and Lizzie ran over to where the sound had come from. There was a vague person-shaped lump on  the middle of the sofa, curled up and miserable looking. Lizzie had found William.

 

She paused to take in the sight in front of her. William looked terrible. His eyes were closed, his arm flung over his face to block out the light she had turned on. Behind his forearm, however, she could see his cheeks were flushed red, while the rest of his skin looked pale and pasty. Dark hair was soaked through with sweat, clinging to his head and curling into the nape of his neck.

 

William was still wearing his suit - from the day before, she presumed. Around his neck, the collar of his shirt was wet and plastered to his skin. Everything else was rumpled, creased and wrinkled. He was a mess. Lizzie had never seen him looking this unkempt. He must have landed like this on the couch after getting home the night before, and just stayed in place. William did not look like he had the ability to move himself at all.

 

Lizzie leaned forward and reached out her hand. Her fingers hit his skin, which was clammy and warm, too warm. Barely had she placed her hand on his forehead before her suspicions were confirmed. He had a fever, a high one if she had to guess.

 

“Oh, William,” she let out in a sigh.

 

He did not respond to her, staying is his prone position, and worry started to creep into Lizzie’s mind. He could not stay like this, not if he was going to get better.

 

Crouching down so that they were on the same level, Lizzie moved her hand to his upper arm. Underneath his shirt, she could feel his muscles were taut and bunched, tense. She gave him a tender pat and rubbed her hand up and down a few times to try and get his attention.

“William, hey, wake up.”

 

“Hrm,” he made an unintelligible sound, and tucked his chin deeper into his chest.

 

Well, Lizzie thought, at least he was conscious, that was something. But she could not leave him there on the couch, and he was clearly not going to get up himself. So Lizzie resolved to take care of him. In all the time she had known him, even before they liked each other, Lizzie  had not seen William get sick. This was a first. And this was no case of the sniffles. He was really ill. Two months before, when she had a cough, he had brought her soup and tended to her.

 

This was her chance to return the favor.

 

“Come on,” Lizzie said, lifting William’s arms to give herself better access maneuver him from his place. His eyes were closed, and there were large dark circles under them. He may have been sleeping, but he was not resting.

 

She took a deep breath and leaned down, wrapping her arms around him, and hoisting him up. She got him into a sitting position without much effort, but getting him up on his feet was more difficult. It took some finagling, but finally he was up, leaning entirely on her, not supporting any of his own weight.

 

William was much taller than Lizzie. Normally she had to look up to see his face, and she liked that. But in this situation it was creating more work. He was bent over, folded onto her back, and she thought he might fall over. Now that he was up, Lizzie thought it would be best to start moving, so she began the trek toward the bedroom.

 

+++

 

Getting William cleaned up had not been easy, but Lizzie accomplished it.  She had maneuvered him into the bathroom, stripped him down and washed him off. The idea of getting him in or out of the shower had been too much, so she had just sat him down and used a wet cloth. Then she had dressed him again in fresh clothing from his room, a plain t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

 

After all that, she had gotten him into bed and drawn the covers up over him. The whole adventure had left her feeling rather worn and messy. So once William was safely taken care of in bed, she grabbed a quick shower and borrowed some clothing from his dresser for herself.

 

Lizzie took a few minutes, once all that was done, to send off a few quick emails. To her office and William’s, saying they would both be taking at least one sick day. To Gigi, because Lizzie knew she would want to know what was going on. And to Fitz, so he could take care of anything William might have that needed to be taken care of right away.

 

Padding down the hall, Lizzie made her way to the library to find something to occupy her time

while William rested. It was, all told, her favorite room in the entire place. A room lined wall to wall, floor to ceiling, with books of every shape and size.

 

Lizzie ran her fingers of the spines of the first shelf she passed on her way in. She inhaled deeply the scent of paper and ink, old books worn from use and love. Then she began to browse. Almost everything was put away, in order and where it was supposed to be. The only exception was a small pile of books, stacked up on the windowsill. It was unobtrusive, but it stood out, drawing Lizzie’s eye and piquing her curiosity.

 

These were clearly books William had been reading recently. Things he had gone back to reference or to thumb through, which had not made it back onto the shelves. Her eyes scanned the titles, and Lizzie felt a little like she was prying into her boyfriend’s mind. This was very personal, very private, like a secret peephole into William’s head.

 

It was not until she noticed the seventh book down that Lizzie was shocked by what she saw. There, sitting right in the pile of old hardcover books, was a fairly new paperback copy of Anna Karenina. It was one of her favorite books, one she had read countless times, and one she and William had fought about the year before, when they had still been at each other’s throats all the time. Carefully, so as to not knock over any of the other books, Lizzie shifted the pile and pulled out the one in question.

 

It was practically new, but very clearly read. Lizzie opened it up and began to thumb through. Much to her surprise, there were notes in the margins.  There were lines and lines of thoughts and ideas, in what Lizzie now knew to be William’s careful handwriting. Lizzie flipped to the middle of the book and read a note at random. She stared at the book, not sure if she was understanding correctly. Then she tried another one. It was the same. These were not just musings, they were conversation topics.

 

The whole book was filled with them. And the more Lizzie read, the more she realized they were not random topics, they were ones tailored to her interests. He had read the whole book and annotated it with conversation starters to use with her. She even found one or two that he had used, arguments they actually had.

 

Not knowing what else to do, Lizzie took the book with her, for closer inspection, to read as she waited for William to wake up.

 

+++

 

_The garden is overgrown, in want of trimming, nearly wild. All around her, the trees are in full bloom, covered in bright green leaves and neon flowers. Each and every plant is wide open, blossoming, and colorful. Even the grass under her feet is thick and lush, practically springy, underneath the thin cloth of her slippers. Lizzie wiggles her toes into the grass and smiles at the warm summer feeling._

_Everything is bright outside, the sun shining high, and it makes the plants around her practically shimmer. The air is light and dry, even in the heat, pleasant and not at all overbearing like it sometimes is in the summer._

_Lizzie takes a few steps forward to explore the garden she has found herself in. It is familiar, like she has been there before, so it is with great comfort that she steps onto the well worn path. It is a dirt groove through the wildlife, and although Lizzie cannot see anyone else, is completely alone, she knows it means that other people have been here before, that the way has been tread. It is a strangely comforting thought, that even though there is no one around, the ghosts of the past still roam freely in this kindly place._

_So Lizzie follows the patharound a large willow tree. She goes slowly, running her fingers over the old bark, letting them trail on the time-worn wood. Looking up, the tree does not seem to have a top, it goes up and up, past the canopy of the other trees, forever. Lizzie knows for a tree to grow this large it must be very old. At this point, the path opened up into a wide field._

_Here, the grass is taller, uncut, almost waist high. And as Lizzie gazes out into the waving stalks, the air flickers and shimmers in the heat. Suddenly, standing in the center of the grass, Lizzie can see a figure. She squints into the sun and the person solidifies, takes shape._

_Dark hair and a stiff posture, and Lizzie knows it her William standing before her. His expression is serious, and months ago she would have thought judging, but now she knows it to be pensive._

_“William,” Lizzie calls out, lifting her arm and waving and catch his attention, “William!”_

_A cool breeze blows through, shifting Lizzie’s dress. The grass sways in the wind, and in it, William stands as firm as ever, not moving or changing expression, while his hair dances on the top of his head. If he sees Lizzie, he is not reacting at all._

_Something over Lizzie’s shoulder seems to catch his attention and Lizzie turns to see what it is he is looking at instead of her. But there is nothing behind her but the large willow tree and the garden. When she turns back, she sees that William has moved, turned away, so that his back is now to her. And he begins to walk._

_Panic pools in Lizzie’s gut. Where is he going? Why does he not respond to her? “William!” she shouts this time, because the wind has not stopped, in fact it has sped up and begun to gust. Lizzie knows she must yell to be heard over it. She strains her voice, trying to get through to him, “William Darcy,” she cries._

_It does no good._

_Lizzie tries to run after him, but the going is no longer easy. Now off the path, Lizzie finds that the tall grass is an impediment. It clings to her dress and skin, sticks to every available surface, holding her back and making progress slow. With each step her foot now sinks into the ground, making an unpleasant sucking sounds as she pulls it back up to move forward some more. Nature itself is making progress impossible. The place no longer feels lovely and kind, it feels hostile._

_William keeps walking away, and he is getting farther away, she cannot catch up. He is getting smaller and smaller, disappearing into the distance._

_Until, finally, he is gone._

 

+++

 

Lizzie woke from a dream of wind and abandon. There was an uncomfortable worry which threatened to overwhelm her. She was scared, but not entirely sure why. A vague image of swaying grass was all that was left in her mind.

 

She blinked a few times and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She was sitting curled up in an armchair she had pulled up next to William’s bed. She must have dozed off.

 

Now Lizzie looked up and was pleased to see that William himself was also awake. He was laying exactly where she had left him, but his eyes were open and he was watching her intently. “Hey,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep. “You are awake.”

 

He inclined his head once, in agreement. “What happened?”

 

“You had a fever,” Lizzie said, leaning forward and placing her hand on his forehead again. He was still warm, but it was not nearly as bad now. His skin looked less feverish, no longer covered in splotchy redness as it had been before, but still pale and drawn, “You are still sick, you should rest more. Try to go back to sleep.”

 

“How long have you been sitting with me?” William asked

 

“As long as you have been out,” LIzzie said, “Nearly two days. You really had me worried, for a while there. I wasn’t sure you would come back to me.” As she said the words, her mind flashed to a hazy image of William in the middle of a field, turning away from her. She shook her head to clear it. "You were pretty unresponsive."

 

Instead of replying to her implication, he looked at the book in her lap with a raised eyebrow and asked, “Why are you reading that?”

 

“I found it in the library,” Lizzie said, her voice more passionate then she meant for it to be. “You read this for me, you wrote out possible conversation starters in the margins for me.”

 

The edges of his lips curved down into a tight frown. “You were not supposed to see that. You were not supposed to see me like this either.” His voice cracked ever so slightly on the final words, and he gave her a sad look, one of defeat.

 

“Why not?” Lizzie asked, now getting emotional. “God, William, would you just let me take care of you for once?”

 

There was a beat of silence before a small smirk formed in the corner of his mouth, “How about some soup?” he suggest, his tone lighter than it had been since he woke up.

 

“Sure, William,” Lizzie sighed, pleased that he was giving in and letting her help. “Soup.”

  
He closed his eyes, as if too tired to keep them open. “Thank you, Lizzie,” he said, drifting off, back to sleep.


End file.
